The Day the Earth Stood Still
by VampirePam
Summary: Newt Geiszler Pro-Tip #37: When recording a top-secret love confession for your lab partner because you think you're going to die, do your best not to leave it laying around your joint workspace, just in case you make it. Hermann Gottlieb Pro-Tip #108: Always tidy your research area thoroughly. You never know what you might find there.


Hermann was never much of a one for parties - "Dear God, We Actually Prevented the Apocalypse" parties included. Inebriated co-workers led to inappropriate displays of affection, led to drinks spilled down the front of his shirt and the smell of perfume lingering on his clothes for weeks. _Nein, danke. _

No, during such occasions, he inevitably found himself seeking the one place he could always rely upon for peace and quiet: his lab. On this particular night, his lab was thankfully quiet, but hardly peaceful. Newton, as was his ever-frustrating custom, had left bits of research scattered everywhere.

He sighed. The chances of Newton cleaning this up under the best of circumstances were hardly high, let alone during what could accurately be described as a base-wide Bacchanalia.

"Never a moment's rest," he muttered, beginning the arduous process of returning the lab to a remotely habitable state, "never a moment's _peace_." He grabbed notebooks and - God help him - bits of kaiju by the handful, shoving them as haphazardly as his natural meticulousness would allow behind Newton's desk.

As he was shifting a particularly precarious stack of papers, a clatter on the ground drew his attention. He had only seconds to recognize the source as Newt's tape recorder and wrap his fingers around it when a familiar whirring noise began...

_A long beep._

"Hermann - I know you're not into this sort of thing - hell, if you're listening, you're probably yelling at me for rambling like this in my log - but I figured, what the hell, no time like the present...especially when there may not be a future.

Anyway, anyway, doom and gloom aside, I just wanted you to know that...I like you. I may not always have acted like it over the years; what can I say, I think my social evolution kind of stalled in the third grade. But I do - like you, I mean.

I like the way you hum Mozart under your breath when a theorem's going well, and Bach when it's going badly. I mean, a little Aerosmith now and then wouldn't be unwelcome, but hey, you gotta work with what you've got.

Oh! And I like that coat of yours. Sometimes, during those marathon sessions - you know the ones, when it's been twenty hours of straight research and suddenly all the test tubes seem to be doing the can-can - I think about what it would be like to curl up in it and just sleep for days and days.

Well, I say _it_. Sometimes I think what it would be like to curl up with _you_ for days and days instead. To sleep. Or not sleep. More the not sleep parts, if I'm going to do this confessional format justice.

Shit, sorry, did I not mention that bit? Now you're probably staring all bug-eyed at the tape recorder wondering why the hell I would play a practical joke on you at a time like this. But it's no joke, I swear! Pinky swear! As fucking illogical as it may seem, I, Newton Geiszler, do solemnly swear to have feelings of a particularly... electromagnetic nature for you, Hermann Gottlieb.

Believe me, it's a surprise to me, too! I didn't want to, well, _want_ you. I just wanted to become the youngest person to win multiple Nobel prizes...and found a theme park called Kaijutopia - was that really too much to ask?

But _no_, Hermann, I couldn't have that, because you had to come along and mess it up, per usual. You think I wanted to devote valuable research time to wondering how I could find out what was under that sweater vest in the name of science? (On a potentially related note, sorry about that, um, sprinkler incident I said wasn't my fault. It got a little out of hand.)

You think I wanted to spend our arguments trying to look properly exasperated while I imagined what it would be like to put my face on your face? In case you haven't gleaned the answer, it's no, Hermann. A resounding no.

I don't know why I'm telling you any of this. No, you know what, that's a lie. I know exactly - it's because of you. You and your damned exoskeleton. And yes, I realize that as a _homo sapien_, you do not actually have an exoskeleton - I _am_ the biologist, remember? Just work with me on this, it's a metaphor.

You put up this, this _armor_ around yourself, like you're warning people off from getting too close. And while that'd be super great if you were, let's say, a pangolin - don't even get me started on how fucking cool that would be - there's a reason humans don't have them! We gotta connect with one another. Hell, if there's anything to be learned from this awful mess we've got ourselves into, it has to be that.

Look, what I'm trying to say - terribly, I know - is that the world may be ending. Hell, if you're actually listening to this, my world already has. And I don't want it to end with you thinking...that nobody out there loved you. Cause I did. Love you, sweater vest coated, pangolin exterior and all.

_Five seconds of silence. _

Fuck, I said 'like' before, didn't I? Shit. Fuck. Shit. Sorry for all the swearing, I just, er, didn't quite know that before. About the love. I mean, me, in love? The big L? Even if I manage to drift with a motherfucking kaiju brain, that's going to be the surprise of the night!

_Three seconds of silence. _

Er, where was I? Right! You, me, the love thing... Fuck, I shouldn't have said any of that. Nope, hearing it play back in my head now, definitely shouldn't have said it.

_A cough_.

Deleting, starting again. Now, where is that damn button? I'm always losing - aha!

_Message archived."_

He heard the secondary clatter as his fingers went limp, but it hardly mattered. Indeed, in that moment, nothing he had been thinking about minutes prior was remotely relevant.

Hermann recognized vaguely how illogical it was - a few hours ago, he'd helped to cancel an apocalypse. No mere disaster, or even catastrophe, but the actual, proper destruction of all humankind. And all it had made him feel was...satisfied, he supposed. That same feeling he often got from solving a particularly tricky proof.

At the time, he'd taken his lack of any stronger feeling as evidence that his was a set worldview, not prone to seismic change. He'd been content enough with that. Now, two minutes of theory-disproving audiotape later, and he was discovering (to no little dismay) that not only shifts, but ones of tectonic proportions were possible after all.

It was while he was still processing aftershocks that the shattering of glass on the other side of the room caught his attention. There, standing in the doorway, surrounded by bits of broken test tube, was the epicenter himself, looking rather in danger of vomiting.

For a moment, they simply stared at one another. If there had been any doubt in either's mind which words on that tape had been heard, it was soon eradicated. In the following instant, it seemed mutual decisions were reached - Newt pivoted to escape; Hermann pounced.

"Please, do not _run, _Newton - you know I cannot follow you." As Newt paused, Hermann hurried. Three steps brought him across the room, four let him maneuver his cane between Newt and the doorframe.

"It's, um, a funny story." Newt's hand shot up to loosen his necktie, found it already hanging near his navel, and settled for freeing a button. "You see, Mako made this thing - a voice changer! - it was, uh, a practical joke; you wouldn't understand."

"Oh, I understand perfectly. Ms. Mori, wishing to play a trick on you, meticulously crafted this - what would you call it - _diatribe_ while utilizing her recent technological innovation to mimic your...unique tone. Do I have that right?"

Newt's hand toyed with a second button before stopping abruptly and closing itself into a fist at his side. "Yeah...yeah, that's right. Glad you understand. So clearly I can't be responsible for anything I - er, she - said on that recording that I - she! - tried to erase."

Maybe it was the two glasses of champagne he'd been coerced into imbibing earlier. Maybe it was the distracting peek onto a new section of Newt's kaiju tattoo, courtesy of his nervous picking at his shirt. Or maybe, just maybe, there was something about saving the world that made a man's priorities sort themselves out after all.

"I'm rather afraid that on that particular point we will have to disagree." One quick tug of his cane had Newt backed against the nearest wall. "I intend to hold you to the highest level of responsibility."

"What're, uh, what're you doin' there, Hermann?" Newt asked, his words all slurring together. "If you murder me, I promise that I'll come back and haunt your ass! Play the Rolling Stones and make that clicking sound you hate for all eternity!"

When Hermann leaned closer, he scrunched up his eyes and squeaked, "My body has a very low tolerance for punching!"

Hermann couldn't help but smile. "I assure you, Newton, I have no intention of punching you."

Newt opened his eyes, intense confusion rendering his features almost unfamiliar. "Then what are you...?"

"I intend," He forced his voice to remain even, though his heart raced and his breath kept catching in his throat, "as you so elegantly put it, to 'put my face on your face.' "

Then, in the second bravest move he had made that night, he did precisely that. The first three seconds were panic - what did one do now? Were tongues required? _Gott in Himmel, _when was the last time he'd done this?

But then Newt was dragging both hands through his hair and attacking his mouth with that same manic ferocity he seemed to apply to everything and _Christ_, Hermann wanted more. He knocked them backward until the wall was supporting Newt, and Newt supporting him.

The cane clattered to the ground, and he was glad, ecstatic even. The sheer _normalcy _of being unable to keep his hands off Newt went to his head in ways champagne never had. In that moment, they could have been anybody, any couple since the dawn of time, acting on biological imperatives.

Newt's hands began to scramble clumsily at his sweater. Unthinkingly Hermann reached down to tug it off himself, only to find himself precariously off-balance and tangled in fabric.

Strong hands were on his waist in an instant, grounding him. "Hey, I've got you, man." Newt's voice was ragged, but strangely fond. Resting his weight almost entirely against Newt, Hermann managed to extricate himself from the sweater without much additional trouble.

Newt's hands cupped his face, his smile more amused than worried. "You good?"

"Better than, dear fellow," Hermann replied, breathless, before diving into a kiss once more.

His hands strayed to Newt's chest, intending to even the score, but soon found that most of the work had been done for him. In addition to the now missing tie and the top buttons Newt had undone in panic, he seemed to have missed more than one when getting dressed that morning.

Consequently, dislodging the rest required only the sweep of a finger down the placket of his shirt. The shiver this sent through Newt's body was...highly gratifying, to say the least.

The hands tangled in his hair slid down his neck and around, until they were clenched around his lapels. A small shove, and the kiss was broken. Hermann's instinctive disappointment was tempered significantly by the discovery that his work on Newt's shirt now allowed him an unprecedented look at his tattoos.

Though he'd always dismissed them in the past as childish, looking now, he was mesmerized. The colors, the artistry, the evocative subject matter - they all combined to form a picture that was decidedly...well, _hot. _Almost unthinkingly, he begin to trace his index finger from one kaiju to the next, a decidedly adult game of connect-the-dots.

Only a sharp pang on his collarbone broke the reverie, bringing with it the realization that Newt was repeating his name. Dear Lord, how long had that been going on?

"I am so sorry!" He recoiled, chagrined. "I don't know what came over me, I.."

"Hey, man, I _liked _what came over you, don't, uh, worry about that!" Newt interrupted quickly, his face flushing appealingly. "I was just thinking that before things go any further we should relocate to a, uh, slightly more...horizontal location?"

"Oh," was all Hermann could think to say to that. "Yes, that...good idea, that."

"So..." Newt dropped his voice an octave and wiggled his eyebrows. "Your place or mine?"

"Neither seems an ideal location," Hermann remarked, doing his utmost not to laugh. "That is, unless you've bribed someone to give you a bed wider than your body and not made of slightly padded concrete."

Newt grimaced. "Afraid not. Got any better ideas?"

"One or two." Hermann grinned, before remembering that his cane was halfway across the room.

"Now I don't know about you," Newt said, neatly draping Hermann's arm over his shoulder, "But I liked things much better this way."

"Me too," Hermann said, laughing softly. Strange, the way the heat of lust and hormones could fade for a moment or two into something...warmer.

"So come on, show me what you got!" Newt exclaimed, slapping him unceremoniously on the ass.

"Oh, I'll get you for that later," Hermann promised, before guiding him in the direction of a seldom used corner of their lab. "Now, when I show you this, you have to promise not to be cross."

"Why would I be..." Newt's voice trailed off as Hermann pressed at a few key spots in the wall, which promptly swung open to reveal a cozy room containing a few tall bookshelves, a comfortable-looking armchair, and a neatly made double bed.

"Are you freaking kidding me?" Newt shouted, striking him on "How long has this been here?!"

"Only two or three...years," Hermann said, determinedly looking anywhere but at Newt.

"Two or three _years_!" It was to Newt's credit that his grip on Hermann never wavered, even as he gesticulated wildly with his other hand. "I can't believe you didn't tell me about this."

"With the hours we work, I needed a quiet place to relax. And if I'd told you..." He let the _it wouldn't have been quiet anymore _remain unspoken.

With Newt looking to be on the verge of another outburst, Hermann quickly pivoted around and kissed him. After a few seconds, he pulled back just enough to whisper, "Let me make it up to you."

Newt looked torn for a moment or two, then let out a long sigh. "You cheat, you know that?"

Hermann wrapped both arms around Newt's waist before observing, "All's fair in love and war, isn't that what they say?"

Newt's fingers grazed his cheek. He asked quietly, "And which is this?"

Hermann responded, just as quietly, "I think we both know which hypothesis the evidence supports, Dr. Geizler."

Then Newt's mouth was on his again, less frenzied this time, and they were maneuvering in tandem toward the bed. Newt collapsed onto it first, before gently tugging Hermann down with him.

They lay there, side by side, even their breathing synchronized. Newt's fingers combed through his hair once more. "You sure you want to do this, man?"

Hermann tugged Newt closer. "I'd put the margin of error at, oh, plus or minus .001%. Do you find that adequate?"

Newt's smile gleamed mischieviously. "Yeah, I, uh, think that's enough to proceed with the experiment. Of course..." He shifted suddenly so he was sprawled on top of Hermann, "We'll probably have to repeat it a few times, for the sake of the data. I hope you're prepared for an all-nighter."

Hermann grinned. "As you are so fond of saying, dear Newton, 'bring it on.' "


End file.
